Observer
by Channel D
Summary: On Hallowe'en, Tim has supernatural visitors who bear messages. His dog is witness to the events. Written for the NFA Ghost Story challenge. One-shot.


**Observer**

**by channeld**

_written for_: the NFA _Ghost story_ challenge  
><em>rating<em>: K plus  
><em>characters<em>: Tim, Gibbs, Jethro the dog  
><em>genre<em>: drama, pensive

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><p><em>disclaimer<em>: I own nothing of NCIS.

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><p>On this last day of October, with the late afternoon slithering into a gray, cold void, Tim McGee sat at his desk, typing his report of the day's case. It had been a complicated case that nonetheless had wrapped itself up fairly quickly, but Tim had been the one at the center of the investigation, the one to whom the sole witness had opened up, and thus the one stuck with the lion's share of the team report. He scarcely noticed when Tony and Ziva left at 6, nor when Gibbs disappeared sometime around then. Gibbs hadn't said good night, unlike the others; one moment when Tim looked up, Gibbs just wasn't there. <em>Comes from having a nearly-mute boss,<em> Tim thought at one point, and went back to his report.

He wasn't alone that evening. On the floor at his side was his beloved dog Jethro, whose sniffing talents had been called in on an emergency basis for this same case. As a reward for his help, Jethro was allowed to stay at NCIS with Tim for the rest of the day. He was stretched out on the floor, with a bowl of water before him. That and the presence of his master was all the German shepherd needed to be happy, and now and then he evinced that with a thump of his tail on the carpet.

At full darkness outside, the overhead lights changed to the lower settings for evening, and the few workers still there turned on their desk lamps. NCIS was quiet that night; few people staying late. Many had headed for home to brace for trick-or-treaters or get ready for parties. Tim was not a social animal, and working late this night was fine by him. There were enough horrors in his everyday job that he didn't need the sight of pretend ghouls in costume to remind him of dark things.

The evening wore on. Jethro raised his head at one point, his ears and eyes taking in new information. There was something there…but what? He twitched his nose, sniffing, but could detect no scent on the visitor. It was as if it _had_ none…which was impossible, his mind told him. All things had scents. Even unchanging things like a wall, a lamp, a telephone had scents. But not this thing.

He strained then to make sense of it. It was human in form, wearing that clothing that was not pants, that did not rnclose the legs. He did not know the word for it. But many humans wore it…aha; it was a female human, Jethro finally decided. Long hair, different body shape than master's. Still, female humans usually smelled very nice, like flowers. This one…he didn't know why she didn't smell.

"Tim." The woman stood before the master's desk, either not noticing or ignoring Jethro. "Tim, I just wanted to say…"

Jethro didn't like her stance; didn't like what sounded like false friendliness. He growled, lowly.

"What is it, boy?" Tim asked, leaning over to peer at his dog. "You've got to be quiet in here, you know."

"Tim, it's me. Amanda. Amanda Barrow. Remember? We met in the coffee shop when you were about to drop your order." The woman Amanda smiled winsomely, but Jethro did not drop his suspicions. The master was either ignoring her or could not hear her. Jethro stretched a front paw out and touched her foot…and it was like touching air. She was real, and yet, not real. It was puzzling.

"I thought you were…cute. Yes, I really did. And you were sweet. Much more sweet than I've usually found in a cop. The way you fumbled your take-out order was just…endearing." She smiled. Jethro remained alert.

"Can't you hear me? I know this is difficult, but can't you…You can't, can you."

Her smile faded into ice, and was replaced by a sneer. "You think you're special, don't you? High-and-mighty champion of justice, with lofty standards? You think I used you, didn't you? Well, of course I did! You're not as important or desirable as you think you are. Pfah! It was all a ruse. I was going to get to Kai through you. And you fell for it. Right to the end, as I died in your arms, you were still thinking, _This gorgeous woman; this Amanda…_And you wanted my last words to be false, and for us to be a fairy tale romance.

"Little worm! Little flea! As if anyone would consider you her dream date!...I wish I could do something to shake you hard. Because of _you_ my mission failed. Because of _you_ I died. I can only look forward to the day when you die, too, in what I hope is a miserable, painful death…like I had, but worse."

And then she suddenly…wasn't there. Jethro whined once, in surprise. This was beyond his understanding.

"Jethro, quiet," Tim murmured. The dog then stretched out, his ears flicking. What did it all mean?

* * *

><p>Dogs do not measure time as humans do, but some time elapsed before Jethro sensed a presence again, and his lips curled. It was not this Amanda again, he could tell, but like her in a way. Another human female. Like the strange Amanda, she had no scent. Jethro didn't need to touch her to tell that she was made up of air. Although sight wasn't his strongest sense, he noticed now that light ever so faintly shone through her. He trembled a little, and made ready to put himself between her and the master if her tone turned hostile.<p>

"McGee!...Tim." This one smiled and pushed a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear as she stood before Tim's desk. "It's been awhile. You haven't forgotten me, have you? Old Kate?" She chuckled. "Well, I wasn't _that_ old."

Tim didn't exactly look away from his screen, but he did look to the side for a minute, as if a brief sound had distracted him.

"You can't see me or hear me. Darn it. I've tried this before and it's never worked. I don't know why I keep trying." She walked the length of his desk, looking around the squad room. "You don't know it, but I've been here a number of times. Seen you, and Tony, and Gibbs, and that new girl—she's a pistol!—hard at work."

Jethro didn't know this person, this Kate, either, but he had a good feeling about her. He whuffled. She actually turned to him, and smiled, before turning her attention back to Tim.

"I think it's you, though, who draws me here the most, Tim. If I could say one thing to you that you could hear, it would be _Thank you._ Thank you for your assistance when we worked together. I'm sorry if I sometimes razzed you, but…I grew up with brothers, and it was the only way I could hold my own. But you were always the gentleman, always willing to forgive.

"I've enjoyed watching you grow into this job. You are so much more confident and competent now than you were when Gibbs plucked you out of Norfolk. I am so proud of you, Tim. And…I'm glad that Ari took down me instead of you. If that scum had to kill anyone, that is. Stay safe, Tim." She kissed him on the forehead, but he didn't react; only kept typing.

She was nice, Jethro thought when the Kate faded into the shadows. Someone the master had known, and liked. I wish he could have heard her. He took a drink from the water bowl and then curled up for a nap.

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><p>The movement of light before his closed lids woke Jethro. Yet another air-filled visitor stopped by to see the master, and this one didn't just stand before him, but actually drew up a chair (with some difficulty) next to him! She (for it was another female human) stopped short on seeing Jethro, and she smiled…genuinely, warmly. "Oh, hello, Jethro! It's good to see you again. What brings you to NCIS?"<p>

He half-rose, tail wagging. This person he knew! She was called _Jenny_, he remembered. The master called her also _The Director_ or _ma'am._ It was all confusing. Why did humans need so many names?

She patted him, and although he couldn't feel her hand on his head, he was happy for the thought behind it. He gave her a doggy grin in return, and then scooted over so she could bring her chair closer to Tim.

"Gibbs have you working late, Tim?" she asked the master. She sighed. "Typical. But it'll win out, Tim. You're a hard worker, and this job sometimes demands long hours of us. You get in the habit of this, efficiently, now, and it will pay off down the road, in terms of promotions.

"This job eats people alive, I'll admit. Those who survive it are a hardy bunch. Not always sane, maybe, but hardy. You have a good attitude, Tim. I could tell that, right from the start when I met you. Oh, you weren't the typical brawny, manly agent, like Tony. You were in the new breed, who would be solving cases with more technological help than by chasing perps down alleys. I was skeptical. But you proved yourself.

"There was a reason why I didn't choose you for my bodyguard team when I went to California. You've probably wondered about that. I had a feeling then that I might not be coming back." She put her hand on the back of his chair, and gazed toward the ceiling, sadly. "I knew that all of you on Gibbs' team would make good bodyguards. So when it came down to the choice, I asked myself, _Who would be most hurt by seeing me suddenly dead?_

"Not Ziva, even though we were old friends. Not Tony, whose previous work in Homicide for the Baltimore PD would have shown him more death than most NCIS agents would see in their career. It was you, Tim. You're a seasoned agent but you have the biggest heart around. I think seeing me dead there would have broken you; would have ruined you forever as an agent. So…I'm glad that it worked out that way. But knowing you, you'll always have regrets, won't you? You'll always feel that if you had been there, things might have turned out differently.

"Life isn't like that. And what's worse, it doesn't give us who have gone beyond a chance to come back and give you the comfort you need, and that we want to give."

She put her hand on his, and peered at the monitor screen. "Oh, I know that place. I've always suspected there was illegal activities—drugs or guns—going on there. Good for you for flushing that out."

Jenny got up, and gave Jethro an air-filled hug. "Watch over your master, Jethro. He's one of the best." Jethro responded with a lick to her face, even though he tasted nothing. She looked pleased, though.

* * *

><p>When Jethro next woke up, and got up to stretch, it was because someone definitely human had come in. Someone with a <em>scent<em>! A trace of sawdust and a lot of coffee in that scent. It was the male human, the alpha of the master's pack.

"Oh, hey, boss. What brings you back here? It must be close to 8…"

"It's after 11, Tim. Got a meeting at the Pentagon first thing tomorrow. Forgot a file I need to take along. Why are you still here?"

"I'm finishing my report. It's almost done."

"You can always finish it tomorrow. We do enough late nights as it is, here." He gave Tim a shrewd look. "Any other reason you're here this late?"

Tim flushed, and looked down at his keyboard. "It's Hallowe'en. It's always felt like a strange day for me. Not that I believe in witches or spooks or anything…"

"You'd just rather not be reminded of it?"

"No, that's not it. I don't mind all the symbols of Hallowe'en. In fact, it's here at NCIS, with all its security, that I feel like I can work and at the same time draw in a little understanding and appreciation of the day. We see death here all the time, but if there was ever a way to get the dead to speak up, kind of like how Ducky wishes they would, then I think I'd have a better chance of hearing them here. At work." He chuckled. "There. I've said it. You probably think I'm nuts."

The boss-man (who Jethro knew also had a second name, _Gibbs_) bent over to scratch Jethro behind the ears. "My father has always has a similar feeling about Hallowe'en, or All Hallows Eve, as some of our people call it. The Witching Night. The night before All Saints Day. I remember my granddad telling me that on this night, the edges of the world soften and the supernatural can come through."

"And talk to us?"

"Try to, at least."

"Have you ever heard one?"

"Nope. Can't say I believe all this." He noticed Tim's downcast look. "But I can't say I disbelieve, either. I just don't know. Do you, Jethro?" He gave the dog another pat.

"Whatever he knows, he doesn't tell," Tim grinned.

"Go on home. The night's getting old, and you need your sleep."

"I guess so." Tim stood up and yawned, and then shut down his computer. "C'mon, Jethro; let's go home." He add softly, "Goodnight, spooks, if you're out there."

"Good night, spooks," Gibbs agreed.

-END-


End file.
